The Right Catalyst
by dfriendly
Summary: The night before Arthur's wedding to a princess, Gwen finds him in the throne room. This is speculation fic. But there are spoilers for the episode summaries of 3x06 & 3x07. I wanted to get this fic up before the episode aired tomorrow and it gets jossed.


**Title: **The Right Catalyst

**Fandom:** _Merlin_

**Characters/Pairings: **Gwen/Arthur, Morgana

**Rating: **NC-17

**Word Count:** 1,773

**Spoilers:** This is speculation. But there are spoilers for the episode summaries of 3x06 and 3x07.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Merlin_.

**Summary:** The night before Arthur's wedding to a princess, Gwen finds him in the throne room.

**Author's Note:** This was written for the Get Arthur and Gwen Laid fest at LJ. The prompt was to write a fic for this picture: felix-aeternus$.livejournal.c$om/$15765.h$tml (take out the $ signs).

I have other, slighty older fics to post from my LJ, but I wanted to get this fic up before the episode aired tomorrow and it gets jossed.

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Gwen can't sleep. Not tonight. And surely not tomorrow night either. So she slips her cape over her nightdress and returned to the castle. She just has to see him before…

Before it would become inappropriate to see him any further.

On her way to his chambers, she notices the faint flicker of candlelight from the throne room. She pauses, curious as to why a few lone candles would be lit in there, only to see Arthur sitting in his usual chair.

He doesn't notice her as she pads into the hall until she shuts the heavy door behind her with an echoing creak.

"Gwen?"

"Arthur," she answers quietly. "What are you doing here?"

He sighs and bows his head. "Reminding myself of my duty and why I need to do this." His tone is strained and on the verge of revealing his bitterness.

She nods and tries to make him out better in the darkness. Besides the few unhelpful candles, only moonlight illuminates the room. But she thinks she can still see the redness of his eyes.

"So what are _you_ doing here?" he asks gently.

She chews the side of her bottom lip. "I wanted to see you," she whispers.

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly while he just looks at her.

"You told me I should marry her, Gwen," he says carefully. "Is that really what you want?"

"No," she sighs. It's a painful relief to not hold back her feelings for once. "But you have to, Arthur."

"I would give anything to not have to." His voice cracks at the last word and she sees as he tightly shuts his eyes and curls his fist around the arm of his chair.

Gwen cant' help but step forward and – without thinking about it – sit on his lap. She unclasps her cloak, letting it float down over the side of her chair so that her arm is freer to wrap around his shoulder. One of his hands comes to grip her hip tightly, as if for support, as she strokes his face.

He gives into her immediately, leaning his head against her shoulder. Droplets fall onto her breast and she can feel tears well up in her own eyes from seeing him like this. They sit like that for a few minutes, their steady breaths the only noise that fills up the hall.

"The only woman I want is you," he whispers.

Gwen grimaces at his words, wishing for the first time that he wouldn't tell her such things. So she just runs her thumb across his cheekbone, wishing she could just hold him like this forever.

Arthur shifts his head, finding the inside of her wrist with his mouth and kisses it. She trembles at the touch of his lips, which she hasn't felt since over a year ago.

When he raises his head her stomach drops. He's so close. She can feel his breath on her face. His forehead presses to hers.

"I love you."

Gwen doesn't have the time for the words to fully sweep over her before he kisses her. She can't breathe – not when Arthur's just told her something that both fills her with joy and breaks her heart.

She can feel the desperation taught in his body. The way he pushes firmly against her mouth and the way his hand grips tighter around her hip. She can just feel it strained in every muscle she's in contact with.

Gwen breaks the kiss and takes a shaky breath. "This is only making it harder."

"I don't care," he answers roughly.

He kisses her again and she can't help but curl her fingers into his hair. His tongue teases her lips and she permits him in, pushing against his mouth with a force that tips his head back as she presses her body closer to him.

She shifts on his lap to face him better, making him moan as the movement rubs her bum against him. She feels his length grow harder against her thigh and she can't help the rush of heat that forms between her own legs.

His hand goes to her thigh, massaging her and pushing the material so that her dress rises halfway up her calf.

She makes a little noise, one that he might interpret as protest because he stops.

His forehead is back against her shoulder as he gulps down breaths. "It kills me that I'll never get to have you," he mutters.

Her chest stutters at his words. She's known he's never intended to be anything but honourable with her. He's never meant to turn her into his mistress and he won't once he is married. It's always warmed her to know she meant more to him than that. But the idea now that they will never share that experience with each other pains her.

"You can still have me tonight," she whispers.

He raises his head again and looks at her. She can tell from the way his mouth works and eyes darken what he thinks of her idea. "Is that what you want?" he breathes.

"Yes. If tonight's all we'll ever be allowed… then I want to make love to you while I still can."

His hand goes to the back of her head and he kisses her achingly slow. "Thank god," he rasps.

He begins to move up the hem of her dress again, making her sigh as he caresses her legs. In turn, she runs her hands down his shirt and works it off him, reveling in the hardness of his chest and the tickling of his hair against her palms. She lifts up her bum once he's bunched her skirt to her hips, helping him ease her nightdress off.

He kisses her again, deeper than before, probing deliciously into her mouth. So it surprises her when he scoops one arm under her knees, lifting her up as he stands. She squeaks and wonders where he could possibly plan on going with them in this state, when he walks to the nearest window and perches her on the edge of it.

The moonlight streams directly onto him, turning his hair silver, lighting up his blue eyes, and making his pale skin almost glow. It also illuminates the redness around his eyes so that she wonders just how long he'd been sitting there before she arrived.

She reaches for his face, pulling him closer to kiss the edges of his eyes. When she draws back he just stares at her like he so often does when she knows he's pondering her. So her eyes drop down to his trousers and she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth as she begins to unlace them.

He just continues to watch her, remaining still. His breathing grows heavier with each tug on the strings of his trousers and the hands on her thighs stroke slowly upward while his thumbs rub between them.

She's trembling once she begins to push his trousers down his hips. His erection eases completely free and she swallows, innately aroused by the sight of it even in her trepidation.

"We don't have to do this," Arthur whispers.

Gwen meets his eyes again, sees how hard he's panting and the rigidness of his jaw.

"But I want to," she assures. Because no amount of nervousness could possibly outweigh how much she wants him, tonight of all nights.

He nods slowly and parts her thighs as he places light, careful kisses on her mouth.

Arthur eases into her, stretching her until it burns. She whimpers and he stops.

He rests his lips against her forehead and she can feel him shaking while he waits. "Does it still hurt?"

"No," she lies. And he must know she's lying from the edge in her voice, because he remains poised a minute longer and she feels him bite on his lip. Once the pain dulls more she shifts forward. He groans and slowly pushes in the rest of the way before pulling partly back out.

"Okay?" he husks.

She nods against him and guides him forward with her hands at the small of his back. The second thrust seems less invasive and so does the third. She stops counting as he continues and moans a little.

"Faster?"

She realizes that he's asking for permission. The slow pace is killing him. She can tell he's desperate for her… just as she is for him.

"Yes."

He increases his tempo a little at a time until they've reached a steady rhythm. It hurts more, but somehow it feels better, too – a logic that she can't quite figure out at the moment.

Something hot and frantic is mounting inside her. She tilts her head back and braces herself with one arm against the edge of the window. She feels Arthur bend to kiss her neck as one hand palms her breast. A keen escapes as her climax reverberates through her body.

Arthur pumps once, twice inside her before pulling out and spilling onto the wall below her. His body then slackens against the windowsill and his head fits naturally onto her shoulder.

"I love you," he pants into her skin. "I love you."

Gwen squeezes his arm and tries to keep her voice from shaking.

"I love you, too."

lll

Morgana can tell that Gwen's been in a cheerful mood ever since Arthur's marriage fell through. By now, that doesn't surprise her. She can only be glad that Merlin took care of it without Morgana having to step in to keep things on track.

She's sitting at her vanity, idly brushing her hair while Gwen arranges a vase of roses. Morgana doesn't usually care for roses, as they aren't worth the inevitable pricks on Gwen's fingers. But Morgana's been asking for them recently.

Morgana hears a hiss from behind her and smiles. "Oh, Gwen," she sighs sympathetically. "Come here."

"It's nothing," Gwen answers.

Morgana hushes her and presses the nearest handkerchief to her maid's finger until the bleeding stops. Gwen smiles at the affection, probably because they haven't been as close since Morgana returned.

Once Gwen leaves with the laundry, Morgana fishes a vial from her drawer and pours a few drops onto the handkerchief. For the first time, the stain turns black instead of staying the pure red of a maiden's blood.

Morgana smirks. Perhaps Arthur's wedding fiasco had been worth the trouble if it was the right catalyst.

She pulls the hand mirror from the drawer to fog it up with her breath. Then her finger traces over it in quick strokes before the words fade into it.

It's time.

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I couldn't resist the last part. The events of 3x07 happening right after the marriage thing a coincidence? I think not ;)


End file.
